


you are the moon

by encoru



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23345497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/encoru/pseuds/encoru
Summary: “I dreamed of you.” He breathes against my mouth.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 245





	you are the moon

**Author's Note:**

> set during achilles & patroclus' time at mount pelion.

Gushes of wind blow over my skin and I stir as I slowly drift back into consciousness. Winter feels like a hairsbreadth away during the night, even though spring has just begun and flowers have blossomed again, forests now lush with ripe figs. The cold seems to seep through the rose-quartz walls of the cave and I fumble for the covers, reaching for the familiar warmth of golden skin pressed against mine.

I wake up when my hands catch nothing but air.

The space next to mine is empty. This is not unusual; I had not heard him leave. I _never_ hear him. Late-night visitations from his mother are something that has become ingrained in our routine since we were children. I bear no qualms about it, even though the thought of being pinned under the vast blackness of Tethis’ gaze is enough to send a shudder to my skin.

Still, I find myself rising, putting back my tunic and sandals on despite the late hour. I wander outside the cave, careful not to make any unnecessary noise lest it stirs Chiron awake.

The air is much colder outside, and my tunic is barely enough to ward off the cold from the unforgiving breeze. I wrap my arms around myself as my eyes adjust to the dark. There is nothing but constellations dotted in the sky to light my path. 

I crest the hill, looking for golden hair and golden skin. Long minutes pass with leaves steadily crunching under the weight of my feet when I see him, sitting on the edge of a cliff.

 _Achilles_.

He turns and perhaps he _feels_ me as I see him, for a smile immediately blooms on his mouth the moment our eyes meet. Under the moonlight, his skin looks golden bright as it does under the flickering sun, and the shadows casted on his figure only help draw out his sculpted-perfect face. For a brief moment, I wonder how could anyone possess a beauty so bright and clear that it blurs the darkness of the sky. It is almost criminal how a person, no longer a boy yet barely a man at ten and six, could look as breathtaking as Achilles does. 

And then I remember — of course, I remember — that he is a work of _divinity_ , half-human and half-god, prophecied to be the best — and also the most beautiful — warrior there is to be.

My face flushes red. I sit beside him, our knees touching and our legs dangling in the air. Achilles intertwines our fingers and the heat of his skin feels like home against mine. 

“I apologize for disturbing your sleep,” He says, and a hand cards through my tousled hair, lithe and filled with grace, like everything of him. “I did not expect you to follow me here.”

 _How foolish_ , I wanted to reply, for I would follow him to war, I would follow him to death, and wherever he needed me to be. Instead, I ask the usual. “Is she well?”

Achilles shakes his head and tightens his fingers around mine. A hand curls against my chin and he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against my lips. The kiss is fleeting but the tenderness lingers, and it takes me a moment to open my eyes as I bask under the weight of his gaze.

“I dreamed of you.” He breathes against my mouth. 

The silence stretches between us and I stare into his deep-green eyes, now dark in the half-light. I hang onto the words left unsaid.

“Would you like to hear it?”

I nod. I trace a thumb over his pulse, his skin taut under my touch. I think about the prophecy, of Achilles becoming the greatest warrior of our generation, and images of blood and dust and death conjure up in my mind. I push back the thought. Achilles’ pulse is a steady hum under my touch and he is here, he is _alive_.

“I dreamed that you were fighting,” Achilles says slowly, “And then I dreamed of you in _our_ bed, but it was not the one we have back at the caves, nor the one we share in my father’s palace.”

I let the words fill the air between us. “What happens next?”

Achilles swallows and his eyes suddenly fill with tears. Worry laces his voice as he continues his story. “In my dream, you were asleep, strangely and perfectly still. You would not rouse nor answer to my call, no matter how loud I wept.”

The question is instantly out of my mouth. “Do you think it’s a prophecy?”

Achilles pulls his hand from mine. He stares ahead at the endless stretch of the sea below us. The dark water glimmers under the moonlight.

“Have you asked your mother?” 

Achilles turns to me again, his face unreadable. “She wouldn’t tell me anything about it.”

 _If_ Tethis knows anything about my fate, would she tell Achilles? If she knows how I will leave this earth, would she rise from her caves under the sea, only to torment her son about my death, over and over again? Will Achilles continue to keep me by his side as his sworn companion if he knew how soon I would leave him and die? Would a goddess concern herself with the life of an exile?

A million questions race in my head. My chest tightens with dread but Achilles’ heavy stare brings me back.

I reach out for his calloused hand again and bring them to my lips. “Then, perhaps, it is _nothing_ ,” I say as calmly as I could. “Who am I to be prophecied?” _I am nobody_ , I nearly add, and my heart almost stings.

“You are my beloved,” Achilles says, voice low and firm, and I tremble at the certainty of his words. His eyes are still fixed on mine, and if I were not myself, I would have cowered from the intensity of his gaze. But as it is, I am what I am, and I have memorized the golden flecks in the green of his eyes as much as I know the back of my hand.

“ _Patroclus_ ,” he says. I bask in the sound of my name in his mouth, even if he has already called me a hundred times and more. “Can you promise to do one thing for me?”

 _Anything for you, my prince_ , I almost say. I would run a hundred miles for him even if my feet are naught with grace; I would steal the moon from the blackened sky if that’s what it takes to keep his light.

“Patroclus, I don’t care where you go,” He says, and his voice is shaking, “Just don’t go without me.”

Later on, I would realize how big of a promise it is to make. But at that moment, I thought to myself — _I wouldn’t even dare_.

For I am too lost in the fire in his eyes, shining despite the deep darkness of the night, and I am too drunk, far too _drunk_ , in the softness of his lips as our mouths crash together, filling me with a sweetness that I can’t do anything about but take and take and _take_. A hand curves around my neck and I give in until we almost melt into each other.

If there’s one thing I’m sure of, I know that the warmth of his skin will be singed into my memory forever. 

The moon hovers and watches us from above. I will remember this, and this, and _this_. I sing into Achilles' body through my mouth: _you are the moon._

**Author's Note:**

> this is my very first achilles/patroclus fic and i have not written fanfic in over a year so i apologize (if anyone's even going to read this) for the mistakes! i also apologize if it's OOC! i just finished the song of achilles recently and i have not stopped thinking about it ever since so here's a very self-indulgent fic.
> 
> greatly inspired by the hush sound's song of the same [title](https://open.spotify.com/track/2wJliimdkJUcGmYdsRBoUu?si=oqAF9e9XSM2fQky4lQjltA) and by the civil wars' [c'est la mort](https://open.spotify.com/track/5o0bDeEnMMgbjJSZtXsxPI?si=d7YvjI-QQ92ZbBBIqIm7VQ)


End file.
